


I’ve Heard the Hunter Tell

by antin0us



Category: Feverwake - Victoria Lee
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Grimdark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Political Intrigue, Post-Series AU, Spoilers, non-canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23940211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antin0us/pseuds/antin0us
Summary: Five years after the events of March 14, 2124. Calix Lehrer has survived, consolidating his hold on Carolinia. However, the Second Caro-Texan War, known popularly as the “War on Witchings”, rages on. Repeated outbreaks in Atlantia have led to increasing public dissatisfaction against the Chancellor for his mismanagement of the annexed zone.To maintain support for the central government in Durham, Lehrer takes five Level IV children as wards, from prominent factions in Carolinia and Atlantia. Cecil Sun, a 15-year-old prodigy witching, is sent by his adoptive family to the capital, hoping that he will be selected as one of Lehrer’s students.
Relationships: Calix Lehrer / Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. From the Memories of C. Dudayev

Some four thousand years ago, in fecund Mesopotamia, the Sumerians authored the Epic of Gilgamesh. They had looked at the abyss askance, and rejecting nature, sent out a prayer to the gods to defend them against death. From the earth between the Tigris and the Euphrates, they rose, a little bird in the palm of its hand.

Human civilization grew, covered continents, lit up the world in peerless lines of light. It split atoms. It defeated cholera, typhoid, tuberculosis, yellow fever, malaria, bubonic plague. Sometimes, humans threw themselves at each other. In the course of the Second World War, Red Army and Soviet civilian deaths totalled 26 million, nearly three times the population of the second largest country in the world, at the time. Despite this, life pressed onward.

Did anyone expect that the catastrophe from a century ago would change things so dramatically? A little packet of genetic information, not quite alive, that could replicate in plants, animals, humans -- anything living. A disease with a 10% survival rate. For all their resilience and ingenuity, it had reduced North America to little fragmented pockets of inhabited land, once again.

Yet this same virus, a death curse to almost everyone who caught it, had blessed him.

When he was five years old, an _au pair_ infected Cecil, dying a day after. His parents were terrified that he would be taken by the government, so he wasn’t sent to the red ward. Instead, he was kept in an empty warehouse, under the supervision of a private doctor. His conscious moments were feverish, limited. He was closed in by steel posts and windowless walls, within a makeshift negative pressure ward. Everything that went in or out of his room had to be sterilized in an autoclave.

The first thing that happened, waking up after recovery, was the surreal moment when his attending doctor stared into his eyes, and he discovered his presenting power. The gray-haired, bearded man had taken off the headpiece to his bio-containment suit, and was peering at him, eyes narrowed.

A multitude of that man’s recollections filled his mind. A long tenure in a Carolinian university, working in the best-equipped magical virology lab in the word. Poring over the virus beside top researchers. Coming back to Canada and taking a government posting. His family: wife, two daughters, dog.

When the doctor walked out of that warehouse, his memory of the past two weeks, of Cecil’s face, name, dynamics, had all disappeared.

That day, to him, was _воскресение_. Resurrection. Of course, Cecil wasn’t sure if this was what really occurred. His own memory of those early years was mangled beyond recognition.

After the age of five, he was strictly forbidden from leaving the house. The curtains were always drawn so the gardener wouldn’t see him. Unable to go to school, a rotating cast of private tutors taught him everything, from mathematics to political theory. Frequently left to his own devices, he read deeply about virology and the history of the one place on Earth where it was safe to have magic: Carolinia, home to a 4% witching population. Ruled by a dictator, Calix Lehrer.

For ten years, he lived in hiding, thinking of freedom. As he grew older, he began to question things. Why were witchings not allowed to exist in the world of baseline humans? What made him different? What made Carolinia different? Was it a matter, purely, of politics?

Political philosophy increasingly became his greatest interest. He also found a practical application for his magic: spying on everyone who entered his house.

It was Wednesday, noon. The attaché of the Texan ambassador came to have lunch with Cecil’s father. As usual, Cecil sat behind a curtain by the bay window and eavesdropped.

“Mr. Dudayev, this is off the record, but anything you know about the situation in Atlantia could prove useful to our cause.” The man smiled, leaning in.

“So you already know that I have contacts,” Cecil’s father, Thomas Dudayev, replied.

The attaché was on the mark. The Dudayevs shipped certain metals, fine art, and technology to Atlantia. Around five years ago, it had been annexed by Carolinia and ruled by military junta since. The political situation there was more or less chaotic, and as a result, it was frequently... easier, to do business in the region.

“It’s nearly impossible to make anyone in Durham. The people close to Calix Lehrer are airtight. You also know this, it’s hardly a secret.”

“Of course, that man has been alive for, what, 128 years? He’s barely human. Who knows what else he could do?”

The two men laughed in agreement.

 _Well? What do you think, father?_ Cecil narrowed his eyes, focusing on the Texan as he scanned a memory that had surfaced. It was a short conversation between the man and his superior, the Texan ambassador, about Calix Lehrer’s insidious presenting power, persuasion.

It wasn’t the first time he had heard the word. Persuasion. A one of a kind ability that allowed Lehrer to control anyone through a verbal order. No other witching was known to have the same power. He had looked through the memories of countless visitors, hoping to learn a little more about it.

Unfortunately, only the Texans knew about its existence, and they treated it like a state secret. As for its boundary limits? Perhaps only Lehrer himself would know.

He pressed onward, rummaging through the attaché’s memories as casually as if they were his own.

“I‘ll give it to you straight, Thomas,” the man suddenly spoke familiarly. “The Atlantian factions are moving. For what, we don’t know. But a few families are adopting witching children. Witchings with the best dynamics, that can get into Level IV.”

Cecil tensed. Level IV was a training facility based in the Carolinian Government Complex in Durham. The cadets who studied there were Carolinia’s strongest witchings, and its future generals, ministers, and leaders. It sounded like Texas wanted to plant a spy. An opportunity, but a dangerous one.

He continued. “Texas sees this as a very important issue. There must be something going on in Durham for the factions to be so reckless. But it’s difficult to make a move without more information.”

“I see,” Thomas Dudayev nodded. “This is the first time I’ve heard of this. But of course, I’m interested in cooperating with you.”

“Well, if you hear anything else, you know where to find me.”

The two men chuckled again.

After the attaché left, Cecil slipped out from behind the curtain.

“Hiding there again?” His father sighed. “Didn’t I tell you that it’s not safe?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t get caught,” he shrugged. _And if I do, I’ll just wipe them._

“I know you’re bored, since your tutor quit. But we’ll find you a new one.”

“That’s not what I’m thinking of, dad. I’m thinking... why don’t you contact our trading partner in Atlantia. Ask her if she would be interested, if you knew of a witching here with very promising dynamics.”

“Cecil!” His father shook his head. “This isn’t a game. I know you don’t want to be stuck at home all day, but even if you want to go to Carolinia, you’re too young. And it’s not good to get involved in their political infighting. Whatever they’re doing there, it’s incredibly dangerous.”

“I’m old enough. I’m already fifteen. You have to think about my future.”

“I know you’re smart and mature for your age,” his father sighed, patting him on the head.

He sat at the bay window again, staring out into the verdant field that surrounded the mansion he lived in. He had a comfortable, idyllic life in Canada. His parents protected him from pain and danger. In another world, maybe he would dream of living a life like this.

Perhaps it was because he could read the pasts of so many people, their stories laid out to him like a book. Even though he never left home, in many senses, he was an experienced child.

The second power he developed was a rare one: emotional resonance. Presenting powers could be inexplicable, surprising, but learned powers had a scientific basis. The limbic system of the mammalian brain had been fully neural mapped for a long time. Altering someone’s emotions was the simple matter of subtly changing the levels of neurochemicals in their body. Dopamine, noradrenaline, serotonin. And sensing them in the first place was a similar matter.

This ability, the first ability Cecil remembered using, made him highly persuasive. Later that night, his father made a long phone call.


	2. Atatürk, Mussolini, et al.

On Canadian soil, it is a crime to be a witching. In Carolinia, witchings occupy the highest civil and military posts. To be a baseline human is to be a disappointment.

After Cecil made his decision to leave home, things were set into motion rapidly. He was stowed in a padded crate, in the cargo section of the plane, and smuggled into Atlantia. Not quite legal, of course, but he had no desire to leave a paper trail, of where he came from and where he went.

He arrived in Montgomery and was driven straight to the hospital. A doctor, presumably paid off by the Sun family, cordially greeted him and collected a blood sample. After an hour of wait time, she came back with his antibody titer results. Antibodies present at very low dilution, one to two.

From that day onward, the Canadian, Cecil Dudayev, ceased to exist. On paper, he became Cecil Sun, Carolinian citizen and the biological child of Michelle Sun and Anthony Bishop.

Michelle Sun was an imposingly elegant woman in her early thirties, and a power player in Atlantian politics. A Carolinian who moved to Atlantia after the annexation, she made a fortune operating a logistics company. She was well-known in society as the leader of the Sun faction, which promoted economic reform. Her older brother was a Major General in the Carolinian infantry, and he had befriended Lieutenant General Gardner, commander of the Texan Front. One of the few people who had the ear of Calix Lehrer.

After nearly five years of on-and-off war with the Texans, Chancellor Lehrer had allowed some prominent Atlantian families to slowly acquire wealth and authority, reducing his own sphere of influence. As a result, the region became increasingly factionalized, with competing groups aiming to fulfill their own political goals.

Of course, he saw these factions as huge eyesores. In order to bring distant Atlantia closer to the central government in Durham, he agreed to take five Level IV students from prominent families, and tutor them personally. In reality, it was no different from feudal wardship. The lucky students would have the opportunity to get closer to Lehrer, enter his camarilla... but they would also be hostages. Something gained, something lost.

Cecil had just finished taking his written exam to enter Level IV. Accompanied by Lieutenant General Gardner and Major General Sun, he had returned to the Sun townhouse in Durham to wait for his results.

He was sitting at a teakwood dining table, pin straight, as a maid refilled his flute of sparkling pear juice. He swirled the glass, watching the bubbles rolling slowly to the surface and popping, one by one. Ephemeral. _No different from life_ , he thought.

“So? How do you think you did, Cecil?” Gardner was sitting across from him, still in uniform, with three silver stars affixed to his sleeve.

“I think I did well on the written exam. As for the panel, you tell me. Sir.” He replied.

“Save the formalities, you’re not a cadet just yet.” Sun patted him on the back. “You didn’t show your presenting power, did you?”

“I didn’t want to get court-martialed for frightening a ranking officer, you know.” He smiled.

“Very confident, I like it!” Sun’s booming laughter filled the room.

“What’s your impression of Chancellor Lehrer?” Gardner asked.

 _This kind of question, was it a test?_ Cecil thought for a moment, chin propped up on his fist.

Calix Lehrer, the current Chancellor of Carolinia. The first revolutionary king of the country, who ascended to the throne after his older brother, Adalwulf Lehrer, died while attacking DC. He defended the only witching state in the world against all the modern powers that wanted to eradicate them, by repeatedly threatening bio-warfare using the virus.

Later on, he stepped down as king, and supported a series of democratically elected leaders from behind the scenes. Using his magic, he had maintained an impossible youthfulness. He was nearly 130, and still the most powerful witching in the world. Five years ago, he took control of Carolinia again, in a military coup. He installed himself as Chancellor, removing term limits for the position, for the duration of the Second Caro-Texan War.

A war which, unsurprisingly, had not ended yet.

“Let’s see. A faint, well-practised German accent. A suit and a Sam Browne belt. He cares a lot about his revolutionary image, doesn’t he?”

That brown leather belt, Cecil really wanted to go up and tug on it. It was cinched at the narrowest point of his waist, and the sword strap emphasized the broadness of his shoulders. He had no idea that “professional European revolutionary” was so appealing.

The Lieutenant General frowned.

Cecil probed him with his magic. _Disapproval. Disagreement._ Did Gardner feel strong loyalty toward the Chancellor? Or did he think that Cecil misspoke?

“I didn’t look very hard at him. The whole time, I thought General Garcia was going to take out her gun and shoot me.”

“Or get you to perjure yourself,” Gardner replied, taking a glug of his wine. “You answered well, though.”

“She played hardball in front of Lehrer? It’s like she doesn’t understand him at all.” Sun shook his head.

“Lehrer said that he offered a spot to Garcia’s daughter. And he said he would take you before the testing, based on your antibody titer results. That’s probably why she gave you a hard time. She sees you as a rival.”

“What’s her name? Is she already in Level IV?”

“Yeah, since birth, practically,” Sun’s expression darkened. “Her name is Eleanor. Her power is telekinesis, and she’s considered a prodigy.”

Cecil sipped on his pear juice thoughtfully. Leona Garcia, daughter of a four-star general. He saw her face from the first set of memories he read, when he was walking around in the West Wing. For two years now, she had been a fixture in the Durham social scene.

However, he had also learned something else, which neither Lieutenant General Gardner nor Major General Sun seemed to know.

Chancellor Lehrer’s tastes.

Nobody dared to say it directly, of course, but there were rumours. Five years ago, he had two wards. Dara Shirazi and Noam Álvaro, Level IV telepath and technopath, respectively. Both extremely rare presenting abilities with dynamics that rivalled Lehrer himself. And good-looking boys to boot. Leading up to the Second Caro-Texan War, everyone important in Durham knew about Álvaro, who wandered around in the West Wing as a cadet, and was often seen leaving the Chancellor’s apartment.

They were arrested for a failed assassination attempt on him, during his Independence Day speech in 2124. Shirazi was guillotined after a closed trial, and Álvaro died in hospital from viral intoxication.

It was dangerous to be the lover of a king. Any student of history would know that.

Those events were before Miles Sun’s time, and Adam Gardner was always away, commanding the Texan Front. But surely Garcia, who had been Chief of Staff for years, and was posted in Durham, would be aware. What was she playing at? The whole business was just a bride-show.

The Sun faction’s goals were relatively mild. They hoped that Cecil would be able to get close to the Chancellor and persuade him to allow economic reform in Atlantia. But he suspected that some of the other children would be assassins, honeypots, spies looking for leverage. And they probably thought, for all his powers, Lehrer couldn’t live forever. Perhaps they wanted to be installed as his heir.

“I’m looking forward to making his acquaintance properly.” He said, fiddling with his sleeves. “And I need some new clothes. I can’t walk around in my uniform all the time.”

“That’s right,” Gardner replied. “Get some things tomorrow. I’ll give you my tailor’s card. And I’ll introduce you to Lehrer at the party on Sunday.”

“No need, it’s better if I skip that party. It’s not good to be too desperate, after all.” He smiled, leaning in and showing his teeth.


	3. Hymn of Kassia

On Monday morning, Cecil woke up to the sound of someone knocking on the bed frame.

“Huh?” He flipped over, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the brunet, whose face was at his pillow.

“Wake up, you have ten minutes. Your alarm went off like six times.”

“Thanks, Gabriel,” he replied, throwing his blankets off and hurriedly changing into his uniform.

“Yeah, thank me! If it weren’t for me, you would be late!” The other cadet shouted, shoving books into a standard issue messenger bag.

Somehow, he made it to basic on time. It was the beginning of a torturous day, for someone who had never been in school before. Even with the drill sergeant screeching over his head, he couldn’t finish the exercises. As for pull-ups? He wasn’t capable of doing a single one. His pitiful attempt was met by raucous laughter from the entire room.

Monday mornings, after basic, were military history. His instructor droned on for an hour about troop formations and the breach of the Bar Lev Line, while he scribbled notes into his holoreader. The interface on the device was frustratingly clunky, like the modern equivalent of etching words on a clay _tabula_ or a papyrus scroll.

“What does it tell us, that Israel built a supposedly impregnable chain of fortifications, at great cost, to defend against Egypt.” Here, mid-sentence, the instructor paused emphatically. “When we know that their greatest strength was technological superiority, and highly-trained forces adept at urban and agile combat?”

Several hands shot up, but he ignored them, continuing with his pontification.

 _What does it tell us, that Carolinia still uses technology from nearly a century ago_ , thought Cecil, _when we know that it isn’t under an import embargo?_

Then came lunch. The mess hall was filled with uniformed cadets, from six year olds to students his age. As he looked across the room, his gaze landed on a familiar floppy brown haircut, and he took a deep breath.

“Hey, Gabe!” He strode over, waving animatedly. _Be outgoing. Be confident. People like that._

“Hi, Cecil. Looks like you found us.” Gabriel scooted over, letting him sit down. “These are my friends, Ben and Jesse. They’re also in our room, but you didn’t see them because they were out in Raleigh over the weekend. And Leslie.”

“Gabe was just talking about you.” The tall girl with dyed red hair, Leslie, grabbed his hand and shook it firmly. “There’s also Rhea but she’s sick.”

“Nice to meet you. Ben, Jesse, Leslie. Think I got it.” He smiled. He probed the group with his magic. _Slightly elevated mood and attention, corresponding with curiosity._ Except Leslie. _Anxiety._

“Where are you from, Cecil? We don’t get a lot of new recruits at this age.” Ben, the cadet with a cropped haircut and an upturned collar, asked.

“I’m from Atlantia,” he said. _Slight disapproval. Disdain?_

He corrected his stance. “My parents are Carolinian business owners in Atlantia, I mean. I got the virus when I was a kid. Maybe the testing down in Montgomery isn’t very good, but I was only recommended for Level IV recently.”

“Oh, I see, that makes sense,” Ben nodded. “So they have a new training facility now, for witchings there? I didn’t know about that.”

“No, I didn’t have any training before I came here,” he responded.

“That it explains it. Colonel Anderson looked like she would pop a vein when you were wiggling on the pull-up bar.” Jesse snickered.

“Was it really that bad?” Mild self-deprecation, he read, was good for establishing a rapport.

“Don’t listen to him, you’ll get there,” Gabriel patted him on the back.

“We have quite a few new people, don’t we?” Leslie remarked. “There’s you, the blond kid, and Gerald Denver’s son.”

She wasn’t suspicious of him - yet. It was a good time as any to admit it. He opened up his posture and smiled. “I’m not sure about them, but the Chancellor is part of the reason why I’m here.”

“The Chancellor?” She asked.

“He’s taking a few Level IVs as students, so my parents were suddenly super excited about getting me tested again. Maybe that’s why you’ve got people popping out of the woodwork.”

“Oh, I’ve heard rumours about that. Isn’t General Garcia’s daughter one of them?” Gabriel said.

“Gabriel always gets the good gossip. His dad is Home Secretary.” Ben added.

“That’s right. I’m the other one. That I know about so far, at least.” He shrugged.

“That’s really cool though. That you get to be tutored by Chancellor Lehrer. Your antibody titers must be off the charts.” Gabriel said.

“You know, I think I know who number three is. It’s definitely Gerald Denver’s son. What’s his name again?” Ben said.

“Bellamy. Doesn’t his dad hate him? I heard that he stuck his kid in Level III on purpose, because he didn’t want anyone to know about him.” Jesse replied.

“Wait, why?” Cecil asked. “What’s wrong with the guy?”

“It’s because his dad had him before he married. So his wife hates the kid, and they basically ignore him and leave him to his own devices. It really sucks.” Leslie explained.

“If it wasn’t for this situation, he probably wouldn’t let his son move up to Level IV. He doesn’t have any other children, so only one choice.” Gabriel said. _Sympathy, slight irritation._

“That’s so cold. But at least he gets to be here now.”

Gabriel leaned in and spoke in a lowered voice. “A lot of people hate him though. Because his dad supports the Atlantian insurgency.”

“There’s an insurgency?” He frowned, mirroring him and moving forward on his elbows.

“Gabe’s just scaring you. It’s not really an insurgency. It’s the reform faction.” Leslie explained.

Jesse nodded in agreement. _Strong passion._ “You probably don’t know this because you weren’t in Durham. But before the annexation, things sucked. They had so many refugees packed together in some parts of the city, and once in a while, there would be an outbreak here. And we always had to send infantry units to Atlantia to keep things under control.”

“I see, I really didn’t know about that. Things are okay in Montgomery, most of the time. But I moved there when I was pretty young.”

“They’re just troublemakers,” Jesse shook his head. “They’re calling for reform all the time, but there’s outbreaks every few months. Since we can’t be reinfected, we’re sent down to help every time it happens, and it’s just so...”

“Mr. Sun?” A voice called out from behind him, making him jump slightly.

He turned and saw Colonel Young, the man who had proctored his written exam. He stood and saluted, along with the other cadets at the table. “Sir!”

“At ease, cadets,” the colonel said, looking him over. “Your tutoring session is starting soon. Come with me, Mr. Sun.”

His escort led him through a series of halls until they reached the rotunda, and then unlocked the door to the West Wing with an eye scan. He explained, “I’m taking you to Chancellor Lehrer’s office. You can’t be in the West Wing unless you’re accompanied by a ranking adult, so I’ll be bringing you here from now on.”

“Understood, sir.”

At a heavy wooden door, the colonel stopped and knocked twice, before standing off to the side.

The door opened, and Cecil was met by the face of another cadet. He had dark, wavy hair, tied up in a bun, thick, sloped eyebrows, and olive-toned skin. Cecil stepped inside, sweeping the room with his gaze.

Sitting at the desk, facing the door, was Calix Lehrer, who had his chin propped up on knitted hands. Across from him sat a boy with platinum blond hair. There was also a young girl with curly hair put up in a ponytail, who was clearly Leona Garcia. And a thin dark-haired boy, rocking a little on his heels. Bellamy Denver, he surmised.

He saluted again, toward the Chancellor.

“At ease, cadet. I’m glad you made it here on time. Julio, tell him what you’re doing.” Then he turned his attention back toward the blond boy sitting in front of him.

Julio turned out to be the guy who opened the door. “We’re doing telekinesis exercises with these marbles, right now. Orbit them around your head and try to add as many as you can. And keep count.”

“Ok, thanks. I’m Cecil.” He picked up a handful of marbles and began. An easy exercise, that he had done hundreds of times.

Staring off through the window, he affected a neutral expression. Four adversaries. No. Five.

He had never been so close to so many powerful witchings in his life. Strong magic spiralled through the heavily warded room. The blond cadet made wide arcs of electricity jump across the Chancellor’s desk. The rest of them looked like sovereign planets, surrounded by satellites: blue agates and corkscrew alabasters, limeade, catseye, clambroth, and dark lutzes.

His collector’s eye was caught by a large, unusual china marble with a painted horse, in Julio’s orbit. He realized the other cadet was spinning and tilting each individual marble, like planets moving around the sun, then spreading them out like the arms of a galactic spiral. A remarkable number of physics calculations, every second.

Telekinesis was what he showed Calix Lehrer at the testing panel, but now he acknowledged that compared to a real Level IV, he could only be considered passably competent.

After arriving in Durham, he learned that those students grew up on rigorous training and academic breadth, in an environment designed to draw out every last drop of their talent. From early childhood, their lives and occupations were Derrida, Ramanujan, Landau. Even though the two other cadets weren’t showing off like Julio, he suspected they would trump him in the sheer scope and proficiency of their combat-applicable abilities. Not to mention, their ability to do pull-ups.

However, he was still confident on one point. His subtle mastery of memory. And with so much magic in the room already, some of it his own, he thought it wouldn’t be too risky.

Deciding to start with Julio, he easily slipped into the cadet’s memories of the last few days. Most of them were insignificant, a degraded blur. One vivid conversation - coffee with his mother, Felipa Marin. She was a serious, intimidating woman, very different from Michelle Sun, who was all charm. They were under the awning of a restaurant, somewhere familiar in Durham, with their wards up. She was instructing him on how to interact with the Chancellor.

He paused, adding a few more marbles, and continued searching. Julio had entered Level IV when he was seven years old. He was always talented, and had great grades. Throughout his childhood, his most vivid memories revolved around Felipa. Hours spent at the shooting range together. Lunch discussing Atlantian politics. Trips out into the quarantine zone.

His presenting power was healing. But judging by the veritable storm of marbles that were spinning around him now, he wasn’t a one-trick pony.

“Ok, Rainer. Go and join the others,” Lehrer said. “Come over here, Julio.”

As the blond cadet turned, Cecil saw that he was remarkably handsome, and even more surprisingly, had a slight resemblance to the Chancellor. As if he was really Calix Lehrer’s son.

The cadet stared at him intensely as he approached, almost glaring. _Fear. Surprise. Anger._

What was the reason? He looked through the window again, adding a few more marbles. Not willing to risk using magic on someone a foot away from Chancellor Lehrer, he entered Rainer’s memories instead.

A cold, extended conversation with his father, Peter Bielinski. Adoptive father. And he had been on a plane. From Britain? His name wasn’t really Rainer Bielinski.

Cecil tensed slightly. Rainer’s strange mood was intensifying, and he could see the other cadet staring at him, from the reflection on the window.

He skipped to the most recent memories, from the last twenty minutes. Did something happen before he arrived? _An easy exercise. Blue agates. I showed this to the panel. His presenting power is healing._ Wait... what?!

Cecil felt several of his marbles dipping downward, wobbling slightly, and then shooting back into orbit as he regained control. The Chancellor flicked his gaze toward him for a moment.

He had a big problem. The first day, and he had already revealed his hand. Rainer was still staring at him, face glossy with sweat. He forcefully used his magic to calm himself, and then decided that he would have to wipe the other cadet, on the spot.

Turning slightly, he looked at Rainer and began using his emotional resonance ability to ramp up his anxiety. Then, he started excising memories from his target in fifteen second instances, starting from when he entered the room.

He probed Rainer’s mood again. _Anxiety. Confusion._

The right kind of emotional stimulus could result in rapid and seemingly natural memory degradation. Fear especially made it difficult to recall recent events. Fortunately, Rainer was already nervous earlier, when he was sitting in front of Lehrer. Before Cecil had even walked in. This made things easier to fix.

He aggressively overwrote any thoughts that had betrayed his power, keeping it up for the rest of the hour. Eventually, the blond cadet’s attention turned back toward the telekinesis exercise, and his suspicion of Cecil settled.

_A telepath. How improbable._

“That’s it for today,” Calix Lehrer stood, drawing himself out to his impressive full height of around two metres.

As Cecil began to lift his messenger bag over his shoulder, Lehrer stopped him. “Cecil, you stay.”

Had he gotten caught? He sent a small surge of magic through his body, calming himself.

“Come with me. Let’s take a walk.” The Chancellor draped a coat over his shoulders as he walked out.

He followed the man out through the corridor, and into the courtyard of the government complex. They arrived at a bench, and Lehrer gestured for him to sit down.

 _I hope he doesn’t also have telepathy. But he’s Calix Lehrer, so who knows?_ He looked at the Chancellor, with a slightly curious expression on his face.

“So, how many marbles were you using?” Lehrer asked.

“Forty-eight,” he said. A complete guess.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m from the Caucasus.” _Did he use his power on me? Or did I want to tell him a half-truth instead of lying?_

“I had to ask. It’s a national security thing.” The man was smiling at him mildly. “ You’re adopted? You don’t look like the Suns. Half-Chinese and half-European, I mean.”

“You’re right,” he smiled back. “I’m a different kind of Eurasian.”

“You’re sweating, Cecil.”

“Am I?” He asked a little stupidly, wiping his forehead.

“Magic isn’t infinite.” Lehrer looked at him, brow creased, a vaguely paternalistic expression across his face. “I have to warn you, you shouldn’t use it recklessly.”

“I know,” he said, looking away. He hoped it was a good impression of a teenager being chastised by someone they admired.

“I don’t think you know. I’ve seen it happen many times. Strong witchings going past their limits.” The Chancellor shook his head. “Reckless.”

“You mean viral intoxication,” he responded. Adalwulf Lehrer had died from it, or so said the history books. As well as one of Calix Lehrer’s previous students. Álvaro.

The man sighed, looking off into the distance, face tensed. “My brother died from it. And one of my students. It’s a terrible way to go. You must remember that.”

“I understand. I’m sorry for your loss, sir.” He bowed his head.

They sat in silence, watching the cream of Carolinia walking through the courtyard for a minute. Then without warning, the Chancellor’s mouth twitched upward at the corners. “What were you doing to Rainer, earlier?”

“He was staring at me the whole time,” he said, playing at frustration. “And he was angry. Nervous.”

Cecil felt a strong magic forming around him.

“I put up a ward,” the Chancellor explained. “What’s your presenting power? You didn’t show it to the Level IV panel, did you?”

“I caught the virus when I was five. The first power I remember using was emotional resonance.” He replied smoothly, tossing him a smile. He had practised those sentences hundreds of times, until they became muscle memory. “That’s pretty passive, so... What could I do? Make a ranking officer cry?”

The Chancellor chuckled. “I’m glad you didn’t.” He gave Cecil a knowing look, like he was saying, _I know you wanted to do it to Garcia though, and I would have paid to see it._

“I won’t do anything again to Rainer. Sorry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Chancellor Lehrer pressed a palm against his forehead. “You’re a little warm, still. If you feel feverish or tired, you’ll see a doctor, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Or anything else. I mean it.”

“Yes,” he nodded vigorously, and Lehrer waved him off.

After returning to the barracks, Cecil used his ability on himself, carefully looking through his memories of the entire conversation. Everything matched with his recall. So the Chancellor had not used persuasion to make him forget anything. There were two possibilities: He wasn’t capable of it, or he hadn’t perceived the need to do it. In essence, it told him nothing.

He suspected that the Chancellor had used persuasion in the moment when he put up the ward. It was convenient timing, masking one magic with another. Under this assumption, he was suspicious enough of Cecil to risk using his presenting power, an ability he had carefully kept hidden. Was this the case?

But suspicion, in its own way, would protect him. It would explain his behaviour around Rainer as mere intrigue, and his poor acting as just that - poor acting.

He suddenly felt something foreign, strange, which he had rarely felt, back at home. Fear? Excitement?

In _De Cive_ , there’s the famous aphorism, _bellum omnium contra omnes_. The war of all against all. He had never quite understood the meaning of it, because against baseline humans, his ability was an unstoppable force.

But here, there were already two players who could face him.


End file.
